


Christmas at the Round Table House

by mugsandpugs



Series: Mix Tape [2]
Category: X-Men Evolution
Genre: Brothers, Christmas, Fluff, Foster Care, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 08:10:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17158403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mugsandpugs/pseuds/mugsandpugs
Summary: Look, Dex just wants to give the twerp a decent Christmas. That doesn't make him soft, or anything.





	Christmas at the Round Table House

  
жж  
  
_December 1995_

"I'm like, ninety percent sure Santa would never call a ten-year-old 'Shitstain.'"

"No? What should he call him, then?"

"Maybe just 'Lance'?"

"Ugh. Fine. Whatever. Guess Santa got boring in his old age, but okay."

Dexter Wilson, age thirteen, slumped back on his (older!) girlfriend's flowery bed, cigarette in hand, and watched from the corner of his eye as she carefully wrote a note for Lance. He was kinda nervous about this year's gift. Lance was getting older now-- fourth grade! He probably wouldn't be satisfied with the kiddie toys Dex managed to steal from dollar stores anymore. He had to up the ante.

"Ten years old is a little big to still believe in Santa, isn't it?" Sherry asked, leaning back in her desk chair, her lips looking glossy and pink. Dex kind of wanted to bite them. He cracked a grin at her question; the sideways smirk he wore that usually made girls look twice at him, even if he _was_ poor and dirty and a Round Table boy.

"That's cuz the last time someone tried to tell him Santa wasn't real, I beat the snot out of 'em. The shitstain still believes, alright. Nobody dares tell him otherwise"

Sherry, who for some reason wasn't impressed by stories of violence, wrinkled her nose and popped her gum at him. "You love that kid, don't you?" she asked. She was so pretty; her red hair and freckled face and freckled arms...

Of course, lots of girls were pretty, and lots of girls liked Dex. The problem was, the girls who liked Dex didn't much care for when they heard about him macking on _other_ girls. It was all a big hassle. Sherry, though, she'd been pretty cool so far. She might even be his favorite.

Because of this, he felt reasonably secure in replying, "He's a good kid, but don't you tell anyone."

Sherry looked at the note she'd written with a critical eye, then reached onto a shelf for a bottle of perfume, spritzing it on the page. The smell of gingerbread filled the room. "There," she said, and held it up for Dex to read.

> **Dear Lance:  
> ** **Thank you for being such a good boy this year.**  
>  **I got an extra-special present just for you, but I can't get one for everyone, so it's a secret between us, okay? See you next year!**  
>  **Ho, ho, ho!**  
>  **Love from, Santa and Blitzen.**

(Blitzen was apparently Lance's favorite of all the reindeer, though nobody could figure out why.)

Around the margins, Sherry had drawn snowflakes with a sparkly blue gel pen. It did look like something that might come from the North Pole.

"Perfect!" Dex beamed, and forgot, for a moment, to make his face look cool.

жж

All Round Table boys under the age of eighteen received a packet of cookies, gifted by a local bakery, for Christmas. All Round Table boys under the age of _sixteen_ also got a proper gift from a charity provided by kind-hearted locals plucking their names off a Christmas tree inside St. Francis's church.

At least this year the clothes Dex got for his donated gift actually fit, and didn't look too dweeby. He'd needed a new coat.

He walked on tiptoe with a bundle held in his arms towards the younger boy's room, where the kids between the ages of four and twelve (those in their teen years had a different bedroom) had finally gone to sleep.

He knew where to find Lance's bunk without turning the lights on and slid onto his Thomas the Tank Engine sheets, depositing his haul-- two cookie packets, his old hoodie, and his mystery gift-- onto the foot of the child's bed, right beside Lance's own donated gift.

Lance, disturbed by the dip in his mattress, grumbled and stirred in his sleep. His hand slipped from his blanket to pat around until he found Dex's leg.

"Mom?" Lance asked, voice groggy with sleep, and inwardly Dex's hackles raised. He hated a lot of people, but thought it was possible he hated Lance's mother more than anybody else on earth.

He tried to smooth down his temper, though it was difficult. Once Dex got mad, he tended to stay mad for a long while, and it didn't usually go away until he'd broken something or hit someone or even set a fire. "It's just me," he said instead.

"Oh." And just like that, Lance was back asleep, satisfied that all was fine with the world.

Dex watched him for a while, as always marveling at this kid's instant and absolute trust in him. What exactly _was_ Lance, anyway? Chubby little punk with scars up and down his back; a delinquent like all the rest of them with scabby knuckles and a foul mouth. But there was something more to him-- sunshine in his smile, music in his laugh. If Dex had to rearrange the world so Lance could _keep_ smiling and laughing, that's exactly what he'd do.

He flopped back on the bed with a sigh and, snuffling (he was still working through a winter cold), Lance scooted to the edge to make space.

Finally, finally, Dex felt enough peace in his heart to sleep until dawn.

жж

Morning came all too early. Boys woke and hollered over their gifts; devoured their cookies; squabbled over toys and bargained over clothes. Lance himself was a deep sleeper, more so than usual due to his cold, and didn't stir until someone in the kitchen started frying eggs. Of course the smell of breakfast would rouse him.

"Food?" Lance asked eagerly, bolting upright, and Dex snorted.

"Merry Christmas to you, too, Shitstain."

Lance swiveled to look at the older boy in his bunk and _beamed_ a crook-toothed grin. Most of his baby teeth had fallen out already but there were still a few small molars scattered here and there among the bigger ones. "Hi, Dex! Food?"

"Don't bother. It'll be all gone." Dex gestured to the empty room, where all the other boys had stampeded out in their haste for a rare, actual breakfast. "I'll get you something later." He had a girlfriend who worked at McDonalds, even on holidays. She would probably pocket him a few McDoubles if he batted his pretty eyes.

"Aw." Lance pouted. His hair was truly a spectacular disaster on first waking. When Dex reached to pat it, it crackled with static electricity beneath his hand. Lance's pout disappeared mere seconds later when he saw what was on the foot of his bed. "Presents?!"

"Wow, you're observant."

Dex lit up his first cigarette of the day as Lance dove into the pile with enthusiasm, cramming a cookie into his mouth and shredding the paper on his own new outfit. Dex checked the tag inside with approval. Though these jeans were too tall, Lance had definitely needed a bigger waistband. They could cuff the legs until Lance grew another inch.

Lance next held up the hoodie. "Isn't this yours?"

Dex exhaled a lungful of smoke, careful not to do so in Lance's face. "Yeah, but I got a new coat, and that one's still good. It's warm. Wear it."

Illinois had had relentless snowfall all winter. It was always cold, in or out of the house. Lance gratefully pulled the hoodie over his head, ruffling his hair even worse in the process. "Thanks, Dex."

Being thanked made Dex feel weird. Maybe it was because he'd read too many fairy stories, but it made him think of debts, allowances. His dad's deep debt had been what landed him in foster care to begin with. If anybody knew that his old man had quite literally sold him in a poker game, they'd either pity Dex or make fun of him, so he kept that hot mess to himself.

He pointed his cigarette at Lance. "What did I say about thanking people?"

Lance sighed. Drooped. "Not to. Cuz then they'll think I owe them."

"That's my kid."

Lance brightened, like he always did whenever Dex called him that. Dex secretly loved how much Lance admired him. Everything he did, Lance wanted to do, too; from his slumped posture to his colorful language to the devil-may-care attitude. Even now he reached a hand for Dex's cigarette.

"Nope." the thirteen-year-old snatched it away. "You're too young. Smoking is bad for you."

" _You_ were smoking when you were my age!"

This was true, but that still didn't make it okay for Lance to do it. Dex glowered sternly until he sighed and dropped his hand, then reminded him, "You've still got one more present."

"Oh..." Lance pulled back the blanket and found the small, wrapped lump. For lack of pretty paper, Dex had saved up the colorful comics from the Sunday newspaper. Lance was much more careful unwrapping this gift, as he probably wanted to read the comics when he was done.

When the Walkman, headphones, and small collection of tapes fell free into the child's lap, he blinked blankly at them. "What is--"

"Oh, I know what that is!" Dex tried to temper his excitement as he grabbed it out of Lance's hands and shoved a tape at random into the deck, shutting the tiny door and cramming the headphones over Lance's ears. "It's for music, see?" he pressed the play button, then quickly twiddled the volume down when Lance winced at Nirvana's loud bass.

"Wow!" Lance shouted over the sound of music in his head, though Dex was sitting so close he could have whispered if he'd wanted. "Holy shit!"

His eyes were wide as he held the too-big headphones to his ears and listened... and listened... and _listened..._

Dex saw the exact moment Lance's eyes went hazy and blissed-out, as he forgot the world around him and got lost in the music. Gradually his eyes slid shut and he rested back on the bed, mouth silently forming the words along with Cobain. Dex was so glad that he thought his heart might explode-- _how_ many times had he caught the brat watching MTV, shredding along with the guitarist and banging with the drums?

He'd done good. He'd done so, so good. He'd gotten Lance the perfect present!

When the tape ended-- Dex showed him how to flip it over, and Lance was thrilled that there was yet more music on the back-- Lance asked, "Who was this from?"

Oh, shit, hadn't he seen the scented note? Dex played dumb as he dug through the newspaper and found it, then handed it over.

"Santa!" Lance exclaimed, jaw dropped. Then his expression gentled, and he leaned into the older boy's side.

"Gross. What are you doing now?" Dex asked, baffled, though he didn't even pretend to push Lance away.

"Oh, just. Giving you a hug. Pass it along to 'Santa' for me, okay?" Lance asked, dark eyes wide and innocent. Then, while Dex was still reeling in shock-- _he knows; he knows!_ \-- Lance hopped out of bed, taking his new Walkman with him.

"Come on, come on!" he called, pulling his new jeans on and searching the messy floor for his snow boots. "Lets go get breakfast."

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays!


End file.
